I love the assortment of characters here. There’s Sir Hound, mourning the last reminders of his perpetually offscreen wife. There’s Max, on his tiptoes curiously peering into the safe. And then, there’s Slylock.

That is the look of a man who has a grim epiphany. A man who’s entire path has proven meaningless. While he makes idle chitchat with small-time thieves, one man’s headgear is robbing others of movie-going pleasure. His lonely gaze asks, “why? How can I redeem myself? And how much C-4 will it take?”

On a totally unrelated note, I love the thick, uneven lines on this picture. They’ve got kind of a funky, Ed, Edd ‘n’ Eddy look on ’em, and that’s really nostalgic to me.

With the name written in big letters, I feel like I should recognize Sheldon. Although I’m fairly hip and wit’ the kids, I don’t.